


Alex Rider and the Case of the Cookies

by wolfern



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Alex Rider Big Bang, Comedy, Cookies, Crack, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 17:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19856137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfern/pseuds/wolfern
Summary: Sabina is in college, leaving Alex alone with her plant. When they meet again, a mystery draws him in. Written for the Alex Rider Big Bang, 2019. Thanks to Tess (astrographic on tumblr) for making the brilliant cover art!





	Alex Rider and the Case of the Cookies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astrographic](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=astrographic).



> Many many thanks to Tess (astrographic on tumblr) for the cover art!!

The plant looked how Alex felt: its normally energetically-spiralled tendrils had lost all pep and gently rested on the sides of the pot, too spent to even bother with the faintest hint of a curl. He was certain he was doing something wrong with it, but Sabina had neglected to give him any details – it’d pretty much take care of itself, she’d said – and he didn’t want to do anything and risk killing it. Death by inaction was surely more defensible than death by action.

He didn’t even know its name, to google possible maladies and solutions thereof.

Liz and Edward Pleasure had decided he was definitely old enough to take care of himself and the house, let alone a single plant, so they were gone, too. They didn’t seem to realise that plants just tended to commit suicide in his presence.

It was the end of summer in San Francisco, and he still wasn’t used to the thought of continual sunshine. Maybe that was the problem. With the plant, that was, not himself.

Gingerly, he shifted the plant into the shade behind the curtain.

Then he moved it back and sighed.

It was clear that the only solution was to go and ask Sabina for help. She was busy moving into college, but no one had specifically told him to stay and mind the house. He wasn’t a dog, after all! He was an almost-adult (especially by England’s standards, at least) and was due some freedom. He was an independent spirit and a free soul and –

That his ‘independent spirit’ had got him into all the trouble with MI6 was something he very carefully did not consider. Teenagers had the right to a bit of oversight.

Using his very-adult powers, he booked a flight. Then, because he was Responsible, he booked a seat for the plant as well. He tossed up between the names ‘Albert’ and ‘Bennie’, before eventually settling on its true, botanical name: Frizzle Sizzle. Thinking about it now, maybe that was a brand name. Most botanical names were Latin and Alex was sure ‘Frizzle’ and ‘Sizzle’ hadn’t been commonly-used in the Roman Empire. Then again, Alex didn’t know much about Ancient languages, save that they’d somehow influenced modern ones. Ian had been far too practical to teach Alex a dead language.

The rest of the day Alex spent packing his bags and trying to find a good portable container for Mr Sizzle.

* * *

To say Sabina was surprised would be to say Vesuvius spread out a bit. That is to say, it was an understatement, and euphemised a thoroughly negative event. Alex thought it was a bit uncharitable of her to push him out of her door and leave him standing like a concussed cod in front of her dorm room. He hadn’t _known_ she would be having a snogging session when he climbed in the window. He just hadn’t wanted all the bother of going through the paperwork required of visitors by the front desk. And Sabina _knew_ he had a thing for windows.

Exiting via the front desk was counter-productive, so that just left the rest of the building. He hoped the next available window wouldn’t be too high up – the sunshine was putting him in a bad mood for climbing, and carrying the sizzle wasn’t going to help. Sabina hadn’t even thanked him for bringing her beloved plant! It hadn’t been easy getting it past the TSA (well, until he’d made a call to his friend ‘Joe’), not to mention trying to wrangle the plane seatbelt around it. He hoped it appreciated him giving up the window seat. Photosynthesis and all that.

With the practised ease of a spy who knows that confidence and a pretence of belonging are all that matter, Alex ignored the looks of the other students in the building as he wandered the floor. He was starting to grow antsy – he hoped the insects hadn’t transferred from the plant to him – when he stumbled upon the common room and set his eyes upon the mini fridge. He _was_ a growing boy, after all…

Alas, it appeared that the residents of the building were wise to growing boys, as the lunchboxes inside were either locked in a way that made him wary of unpicking, or decorated with cheerful blue, green, and black fuzz with little shiny spots. How long did it take for something in the fridge to grow mould, he wondered, shutting the fridge and rocking back on his heels.

Then, high on a shelf, he saw it: a ceramic rendition of everyone’s favourite blue monster. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he clambered onto the small bench, reached up and brought down his prize. The googly eyes and wide smile praised him for his excellent catch, and the smell of golden flour and butter with sugar and cinnamon awakened the juices of his stomach. With eager anticipation, he lifted the lid off.

The wrath of a starving teenage boy denied food is almost akin to that of a woman scorned.

It was like the sticky note on the inside was taunting him with its inedible purple writing and paper-ness. Alex almost felt like crying, but he had been a Spy and faced similar challenges before, so he settled for a sniffle and a despondent glance towards his pot plant. At least Frizzle Sizzle had _tried_ to stay alive for him, and he didn’t even appreciate plants!

That was it. He was a Spy, damnit, and he was going to find out who had stolen the cookies from the cookie jar!

* * *

For anyone else, the Getting of Clues could have been difficult. Alex had it slightly easier. Not as a result of his experience in spying – that had given him more of Talking to People and Flying by the Seat of your Pants – but because Alex, like a cat, was curious. And his satisfaction always brought him back. Or had so far.

He started with the scene of the crime. There was the ceramic cookie monster jar, containing a sticky note disfigured with purple handwriting that he didn’t recognise. There was the fridge – but he was sure that, despite any dangers he’d ever faced before, he wasn’t game enough to try touching any of the foods within. And finally, there was himself. Science had taught him that the observer was as important a factor as anything else. Schrodinger and all that.

After the primary evidence, he turned to the rest of the room: cream walls, a blue (now almost grey-brown) carpet, and generic wooden furnishings. Nothing significant. But perhaps the lack-of-interesting features was actually very important. He’d come back to that later.

There was a noticeboard with posters declaiming their various sport events, clubs, and academic announcements, but unless the thief had decided to create some sort of cryptic message, there was nothing of note there.

Maybe he needed something better. A tool to help him, like in all the movies.

And thank Smithers, because he had one of the gadget master’s gadgets in his pocket: the acne cream.

At first glance, it didn’t seem like a tool for a detective to use, but Alex was Clever. Being Clever (and also disrespecting of other people’s possessions), he grabbed a glass – what sort of fancy college was this, anyway, with their actual-glass glasses – from a cupboard and carefully squeezed the cream around the circumference of the base of the glass. When it had done its work and separated top from bottom, he used the cookie jar to nudge everything into the metal sink and quickly wash everything off. He hoped the cream would be dilute enough not to destroy their plumbing, but if not… Well. He hoped it was okay.

The next step was to grab some chewing gum – not Smithers’, thankfully and stick it onto one end of the glass circle that had once been the base of the glass, and then use a spoon as a handle stuck on to that.

Triumphantly, Alex held up his makeshift magnifying glass.

Everything was blurry, but that was okay: it was meant to be used for looking at small things.

He stooped over and tried to magnify any cookie crumbs on the ground.

Everything looked normal size.

Well.

This was a _special_ magnifying glass. It would only magnify things of importance. And because everything was Not Magnified in the glass, he decided to leave the room.

* * *

Sabina had since finished her shagging session and so she answered her door fully clothed when Alex, remembering his mistakes of the past, knocked.

“It really is good to see you,” she said, ignoring her beau who sort of hid from Alex behind her, but also had a confusing smile. Alex ignored him and watched Sabina, who had spotted his magical self-made gadget.

“Alex,” she said, “What’s that?”

He smiled, flattered. “My magnifying glass. I’m using it to find clues.” He held it up to look at Sabina and her beau but they remained the same, albeit a bit blurry.

He wondered if it was just in his head that made her sound like she was talking to a little child.

“That’s very good, Alex. And what –” She spotted her potted pet in his arms. “Is that Mrs Frizzle?”

Alex frowned. “It’s _Mister_. And yes, it is.”

“How did you –” she shook her head. “I’m not even going to ask.”

“I think he missed you.” Alex held the plant up. “Look, his tendrils are all wilty.”

Sabina looked at her plant and then behind at his face. Her gaze softened and Alex didn’t know why, but she moved in and gave him a hug. “Oh _Alex._ ” She took the plant from him. “Thank you for taking care of it and bringing it here. I’m sorry for scaring you away before. Do you want to come in?”

Alex nodded and entered the room.

It was… different to her room back in San Francisco, but also the same. He recognised her fairy lights, and photographs on the wall, but there were new photographs, and – he felt a pang of betrayal – a little potted succulent in prime place on the window sill. She didn’t even move it when she put Frizzly on window sill beside it.

Meanwhile, Alex’s entrance had revealed Sabina’s beau more clearly, where previously he’d caught only glimpses. The boy held his hand out. “Hi, I’m Josh.”

“Alex,” the teen muttered. He shook Josh’s hand and tried to figure out if it felt like the hand of a thief. It was certainly large enough to hold a bunch of cookies.

“Why don’t you two get to know each other while I fetch us some snacks,” said Sabina.

* * *

Alex had tried to conduct an interview for his investigation, but it was difficult facing someone sitting on a squishy bed with a blue and white crocheted blanket underneath. More so, the soft lighting through sheer curtains did something to Josh’s face, making it look more innocent. For fear of becoming completely influenced, Alex decided to join Sabina wherever she was.

When he found her, she was arranging cookies on a plastic plate. He looked around, but there were no container from which she might have gotten them. She was surely not the culprit, but he had to ask.

“Did you steal the cookies from the cookie jar?”

He hoped her sidelong glance was of bemused innocence, rather than a sign of guilt.

“Who, me? Couldn’t be.”

“Then _who?_ ” He voiced his frustration.

“ _You_ stole the cookies from the cookie jar.”

Alex was so offended by the accusation that he fell silent and turned around, ignoring the cookies on the plate. Out of principle, he decided he wasn’t going to have any, even though he was entitled to them as a growing boy. It was difficult, chocolate-chip being his favourite, but he managed.

“Well if you’re going to be like that,” said Sabina, “then I’m going back to Josh. You can come back when you’ve calmed down from whatever’s got you in a tizzy.” She left the plate of cookies on the bench and left him there with it.

He looked at the cookies. Technically they were evidence.

He tried to look away, but his gaze was drawn back as if his subconscious knew something he didn’t.

Maybe he needed to investigate them further.

The magnifying glass was no help, but he was beginning to think that maybe it was a traitor magnifying glass.

That left only five other senses for investigation, not counting intuition, so he decided on the two most useful: he took a long sniff of the cookies and, not sensing anything amiss, he took a little nibble.

Subtle, but moreish. Pondering the meaning of mouthfeel, he took another bite.

Did they taste like they’d been stolen? Stolen goods often taste better than those given freely, but perhaps that wasn’t so when they’d been stolen by someone else. The thought surely warranted another taste to make sure.

By then, the cookie was naught but a finger-size, and he popped the last bits in his mouth so it didn’t look uneven.

Then, because the remaining cookies on the plate were no longer divisible by three, he ate two more of them. No revelations occurred to him in the process of doing so, but his subconscious was definitely working on a theory. Emphasis on _sub_ conscious. He paced the room, trying to be more conscious.

No such luck.

By then, the sounds of other students were making themselves known, and he knew exactly what it would look like when they walked in: an empty cookie jar, a plate of cookies, and a blonde teenager holding said plate. Maybe Sabina had been onto something when she accused him. _He_ was innocent but looked suspicious.

Josh was suspiciously innocent-looking.

Alex was about to leave and go confront the other boy when he spied with his eyes a crumb on the ground. In fact, there was a _trail_ of crumbs.

His magnifying glass did not help ascertain whether they were specifically _cookie_ crumbs, but in his heart of hearts he knew the truth: they were. And they would lead him to the cookie thief.

He wished he had Frizzly to carry with him in case of a crisis, but he was hot on the trail and didn’t want to divert. Besides, he was almost certain of where the trail would lead, and that the room with the thief would almost certainly be the one where his Frizz had been left.

* * *

The trail led from corner to corner of the room, over furniture, but strangely never under it. Alex followed it like a bloodhound following cookie crumbs: with his nose to the floor.

He could feel the stares of the gradually-entering students, but as always, he ignored them with the ease of practice. They clearly hadn’t seen a master spy-cum-detective at work before. At least they knew to stand back and let him hunt without obstruction.

This thief was certainly relentless, shamelessly crossing the room back and forth. Well, that was what Alex deduced from the steady rate of dropped crumbs. He continued along the path, until finally the crumbs ended, right where he and Sabina had been standing before.

The nerve! He had stood right there, right where the cookie thief had taken the cookies, unknowingly in that spot darkened by such an unspeakable crime. He shivered to think he had maybe touched what the thief had touched.

Sabina had returned, with Josh trailing behind her. He was a cunning man, and had removed all traces of crumbs upon his hands and mouth. Alex stared at him with righteous indignation.

“Sabina,” he said, trying to spill the horrible news to her slowly, “That man there is not the man you think he is.”

His friend, his poor, deceived friend, frowned and turned to face Josh. “You’re Josh, right?”

Josh had the nerve to look confused as he nodded.

“Studying economics?”

Alex shivered with disgust at Josh’s audacious insouciance.

Sabina turned back to Alex. “What do you mean, then?”

He could hardly even get the words out.

“That, that _villain_ there, full of wormy gall, has _stolen the cookies_!” There. It was said.

“What do you mean, Alex, there’s a plate still there.” She peered closer. “You’ve eaten some of them.”

Alex sniffed. “I investigated the evidence. And my conclusion is: Josh stole the cookies from the cookie jar!”

Josh gaped. “Who, me?”

“Yes, you!”

“Couldn’t be.”

“I won’t fall into your little word traps,” Alex growled. “Sabina, we must rectify this situation and bring poor Mr Cookie Monster to justice. He has been violated most foully.”

“ _What?_ ” Somehow Alex got the feeling that her exclamation was more of confusion than of horror. Her face was pretty horrified, though.

He gestured at the jar. “Cookie monster. Cookie jar. Empty. Someone stole the cookies!”

The room was frozen with his revelation.

Then, whatever he’d expected, it hadn’t been laughter.

The poor students. Their minds had been infected with the wily Josh. He had a face caught in your mind and stopped you thinking of anything else. Stupid.

“Alex, that cookie jar has _always been_ empty. The note inside was a joke.”

He felt sick. But maybe that was the three cookies he’d eaten. “But what about the trail of crumbs? They led right here.”

Sabina sighed. “They’re crumbs that _you dropped._ ”

Oh.

“Why would you have an empty cookie jar?” He had the faintest hope that if she couldn’t answer this, then maybe he wouldn’t be completely mistaken.

“Did you see the fridge?”

He had.

“Do you think anyone would leave a jar of cookies lying around where anyone could have them?”

Oh.

“Oh, Alex,” she said again, and he suddenly wished for the simplicity of taking care of a plant back home in San Francisco.

Well, at least he’d had three cookies. Sabina was right – maybe he had been the thief all along.

He grabbed another. 


End file.
